Kenzie woke up to discover his pants down around his ankles. His head was pounding and his guts were rolling. He fought to focus his eyes. The lights were dimmed low, and the girl fondling his penis wore way too much makeup. Kenzie drunkenly wondered if she were underage.
“What’s going on?”
The little Latino girl looked up from his lap, and even through the alcoholic fog Kenzie felt his gut tighten with alarm and his pulse jump. His penis went limp. Her face was familiar; she looked exactly like the girl in Oso’s house. She grinned at him. The way the shadows crossed her features and ran down her neck it looked like her throat was punctured and pulsing blood…
“No!”
The girl jumped back and fell on her ass. Kenzie grabbed his trousers and stumbled to the door. He could not turn the knob. Outside the room, the pounding of the rock beat drowned out his rising screams. He looked back at the girl. She had edged back into the darkness near the broom closet, and now her features were almost completely hidden. She seemed to be laughing at him. He saw the flash of her crooked teeth and then a fountain of blood spurting straight up into the air. Then the door opened and he lurched out into the room with his pants down.
The bar was full of cops and hookers kissing and screwing and brawling like kids at a frat party. Kenzie, feeling along the wall with his palms, made his way out into the alley. He threw up again.
And that’s the last thing he remembered.
11.
“Jesus, it’s cold out here. That’s everything, right?”
Laura didn’t answer. She threw her straw purse onto the passenger seat and got into the station wagon. She never once looked back at their house.
She slammed the door.
Kenzie had cut down on the drinking. It hadn’t helped. Coming home with lipstick on his dick had been the last straw for Laura. She had not spoken to him for days, really spoken to him. Oh, she said whatever was necessary, but not a syllable more. Therefore the mandatory garage sale, the trips to Goodwill, packing the house up; those things became more than just difficult, they were completely depressing.
Kenzie sped down the highway, trying to beat the morning traffic. He went through the downtown loop and caught the San Bernardino Freeway. He decided to occasionally offer the olive branch via small talk and wait her out. There were starting their lives over, after all. Laura would eventually forgive him.
“You have the map you printed out, right?”
She nodded, reached for the stereo and popped in a classical cassette. No country music, just Mozart. Kenzie sighed. This was going to be a long drive.
They stopped three times, to pee and grab a fast bite to eat. The computer had been programmed to show them the most direct route possible, so they often found themselves on back roads or alone on the highway for long stretches of time. Bored, Kenzie imagined their vehicle from above, speeding through the deserted wasteland like a shiny bug across the water.
Kenzie had always loved the pungent odor of the sage flowers and the wide open expanse of rock and sand. As a boy, he had often ridden alone for hours, bareback and alone, just enjoying the absolute silence of the high desert. He found himself becoming obsessive about checking their water supply; re-filling the two large plastic containers at every stop, just to be on the safe side. His childhood in Nevada had also prepared him for how harsh and unforgiving nature can be. He knew that a few coincidences could put them in a morgue, dead of heatstroke and thirst. One wrong turn, one dead cell-phone battery, one blown water pump and they could be cooked and rotting before anyone found them.
On the outskirts of a little town called Jackpot, Laura began to speak to him again. It was a small thing, just a quick joke that made reference to his clumsiness and their first anniversary, but it let him know that the war was over. Her Highness had forgiven him at last. Two beers and two bags of pretzels later they were talking about keeping some chickens on their property in Twin Forks. Relieved, Kenzie took another look at the map. The next leg of the journey, one of the longest, took them several miles out into the empty desert, away from the main highway.
“I haven’t been this way since I was a kid, Laura, but this seems weird to me. Are you sure about this map quest thing?”
Laura, with mock seriousness: “Computers never lie, human!”
Kenzie frowned. Something about the route seemed bizarre, but he did not want to risk starting another argument. When Laura leaned back in the passenger seat and closed her eyes to rest, he quietly asked the pimply kid pumping gas. The kid shrugged and said to show the map to his boss.
“Beats the shit out of me,” the gas station manager said. He was a sunburned, bellicose hick in stained overalls, and Kenzie doubted he’d ever been as far away as Elko. “Hardly anyone ever goes north on that road, I can tell you that much.”
Kenzie rolled his eyes and gave up. He bought an extra bottle of water from the small store, had the attendant look over the engine hoses and the water pump, then filled the tank and started going north on the obscure, bumpy back road. After a few miles, the world behind them vanished into seemingly endless clouds of beige dust. The vast desert ahead seemed bleak as lunar landscape. The far mountains, where they were supposed to rejoin the main highway, never seemed to get any closer; they just shimmered, changed color and danced away like a mirage.
Laura fell asleep. Kenzie nervously eyed the odometer, trying to keep track of the passing miles. If they were lost, he wanted to know about it as soon as possible. The car radio turned to static and rather than play a cassette or CD, Kenzie just shut it off. He found himself gripping the wheel tightly. Soon his fingers ached. The only sound was the bumping and rumbling of their four wheels on the hard, pocked ground.
Ten miles, fifteen, twenty. No highway. First two and then three miles further than they were supposed to have needed to go. And still the far mountains receded and teased like a chimera. Kenzie considered waking Laura, but decided to let her sleep. There was nothing for her to do except panic.
They were lost.
When several dust devils appeared, swirling up from the road ahead like tiny, pale twisters, Kenzie felt the first real flash of alarm. Within a matter of minutes the horizon blurred and then completely vanished. The sandstorm whipped the car to the left and right and spun it like a top. Kenzie brought the vehicle to a halt, closed all the air vents He pulled up the emergency brake. Laura woke up and rubbed her eyes.
“What’s happening? Where are we?”
Kenzie forced himself to remain calm. “Just a sandstorm,” he said pleasantly. “No big deal, but I can’t see a damned thing. I just thought it would be smart to pull over and wait it out.”
“Okay,” Laura said. “I’m sleepy.”
“May as well take a nap, then,” Kenzie said. “I’ll start again as soon as this all blows over.”
She curled up like a kitten and sighed. Kenzie watched her for a moment, as if seeing her for the very first time. She was a pretty woman in a homespun sort of way. Her crows-feet seemed precious to him, rather than unattractive. He decided that he was a very lucky man.
The wind wept and keened. Sand scratched at the windows like the fingernails of someone buried alive. Kenzie slipped his cell phone out of its case. He turned it on, pressed the auto-dial for 911 and waited. His stomach dropped thirteen floors to the basement. No reception, just static. He swallowed, closed it again. Relax for Chrissakes, he told himself. We have enough water for a few days. The storm will blow over. The car is fine. We’re not going to die out here. He closed his eyes and slept for a few moments. When he woke up, the moaning wind had begun to fall way. The harsh, scraping noises stopped.
And just like that, it was quiet.
The windshield was coated with grime. Kenzie started the car and flipped on the water for the wipers. The rubber wands carved twin funnels of light to see by, and he drove forward, back out onto the dirty road. He traveled perhaps one hundred feet and then stopped again.
& GULP
Kenzie
blinked. That sign hadn’t been there all along, had it? He cocked his head and read it again. It was some kind of diner called JOE’S GAS & GULP. He shook his head in amazement and relief: An old white building, long like a train car; weather beaten yet resilient, standing defiantly in the middle of hell on earth. He glanced at Laura, and was relieved to see that she continued to slumber. She had missed the entire experience. Kenzie drove up and parked near an old pump and a black car up on cinder blocks. He got out, stretched and looked around. A second sign read BRIMSTONE TURNPIKE. Kenzie looked down at the map again. No town called Brimstone, no turnpike indicated on the highway. Strange, but then this was one Godforsaken area. Then Kenzie heard someone whistling tunelessly. He whirled around.
“Howdy, son,” a man said. The voice was silky and resonant; something about it made raised bumps on the skin of his arms.
Kenzie shaded his eyes and peered back at the front porch of the diner. He saw nothing there but shadows. He walked closer, barely noticing that for a moment he felt chilly in 110 degree heat. A shape gradually emerged from the gloom, someone sitting on the porch. Kenzie forced a smile. He saw an old, smiling black man incongruously dressed in a worn gray suit and an off-white fedora. He sat rocking on the splintering porch. Kenzie walked closer.
“Good afternoon. Mind telling me where the hell I am?”
The old man smiled as if comprehending something of great import. “Oh, ‘dat could be what ya call a highly subjective question. See, it all depends upon whose askin’ and then who answerin’. Now, geographically speaking, this here is Brimstone Turnpike.”
“You’re not on the map.”
“Not ‘zactly a surprise,” the old man said. His voice was now oddly seductive, the odd accent even more pronounced than before. “I don’ particularly want most peoples to find me.”
Kenzie walked a bit closer. The door to the building was missing, and the inside appeared to be empty, except for piles of litter and bleached weeds. It seemed unlikely anyone lived in there; in fact, the old man had a cane and a little red suitcase at his side; as if he, too, were just passing through. As Kenzie got closer he noted that there was something odd about the old man’s eyes; they were opaque, almost silver in color. He appeared to be blind.
“Mind if I take it easy for a minute?”
“You already on my property. May as well set ‘n stay a while.”
Kenzie sat down on the porch. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
The old man yawned. He was missing a few teeth. “Truth is, planned it out this way,” he said. “I prefers my own company to the maddenin’ crowd.”
Kenzie cracked his neck and stretched. “I follow you.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” the man said briskly. “Never you mind. The name is Johnny. Johnny Divine.” He put his hand out in Kenzie’s general direction. They shook. “Sure ‘nuff pleased to meet you, Mr. Kenzie.”
Kenzie flinched. “How do you know my name?”
Johnny Divine pursed his lips. “Reckon you told me a minute ago, there. You said, ‘good afternoon ol’ man, my name is Kenzie,’ jes’ like that, clear as a bell.”
“No,” Kenzie said. His skin rippled again. “No, I didn’t.”
Johnny giggled. “Hells bells, boy--you sure ‘bout that? Well, what you know! Me, I guess I’m some kind of closet psychic! With a bit o’ money, I could set up mah own 800 number and rake in cash.”
Kenzie relaxed a bit. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. He’s just an old man in the middle of nowhere. You’re just wired from the storm and freaked about getting lost.
“Lord, it seems like y’all goin’ somewhere in a hurry. Where you bound for, Kenzie?”
“A town called Twin Forks,” Kenzie said, after a long moment. What could possibly be wrong with answering such a simple question? “I spent my childhood there, but I’ve been a long time gone.”
Johnny Divine shook his head slowly. “Oh, my,” he said, softly. “That would surely be a bad thing. Naw, that’s jus’ not a good idea. I don’t think I’d go back there at all, if I was you.”
Kenzie decided to indulge him. “Is that so. Why not?”
The old man looked directly at Kenzie, as if he could actually see him. “Folks tell stories ‘bout that place. I hear legends. Used to be a tribe in those parts called themselves the Sand People. Now, these Sand People, they bowed down to real nasty old demon known as Sahute.”
Kenzie fought down a smile. “Give me a break.”
Johnny Divine shook his head. “You hear me out, boy. So Sahute, he wants him a yearly meal of blood, guts and brains. Some bad stuff and I knows you know what I mean.”
“Human sacrifice.” Kenzie had heard the stories too. He smiled.
“’zactly, Kenzie. But them piles of bleached-out bones didn’t do the deed good enough for that ol’ demon. Fact is, they were just for show. This Sahute, what he really wanted was to hear the screams of the dying and the sobbing of those got left behind.”
Kenzie indulged him. “I see.”
“Naw, don’t ‘spect you do,” Johnny said mildly. “But be good and lets me finish. Sahute, he ate up all of ‘dat fear and the pain he made folks feel. Thas’ what kept him fat and happy. So the evil he done back then, it was so bad it left a stench still hangs over Twin Forks.”
Kenzie nodded patiently. “I appreciate your concern.”
“The townsfolk, they seems nice enough, but that town has a curse on it, sure as I’m settin’ here.” Johnny tapped the arm of his white pine rocking chair. For some reason, Kenzie abruptly pictured it as having been carved from bleached human bones. He shuddered at the thought and forced a laugh. “People scared me with that Sahute stuff when I was a kid, Mr. Divine. I doubt there’s anything to it.”
“Damn, you that sure? Lemme promise you this, evil things do happen in this world, Mr. Kenzie. ‘Cause they part of the fabric of the universe.”
“Yeah,” Kenzie said. “That I know.”
Johnny grimaced. “Yeah, I do believe you, son. You also know you’d best watchful and quick as a cat when the time come.”
Kenzie was growing uncomfortable. “Yes. Sure. I suppose so.”
“If you insist on goin’ where you’re goin’, Mr. Kenzie, you be especially cautious down there in Twin Forks.”
“Because of that Indian spirit.”
Johnny leaned back and rocked for a moment. He shrugged. “Just because.”
“Well, anyone wants to do evil there now has to answer to me,” Kenzie said. “I’m the new law there, as of tomorrow.”
“Ah.”
Johnny Divine now seemed to stare through Kenzie, as if he could sense something dark looming on the far horizon. He shook his head, almost regretfully. “I ‘spose that your destiny, then, isn’t it.” It was not a question. “Likely you’d best be on your way.”
“I would, but I’m flat lost. You mind telling me how to get there from here?”
Johnny nodded, pointed as if he could see. “Go out onto that road there, the Brimstone Turnpike. You yourself away from the sun, hear? You head west maybe an hour and then north to chase the dark. You be settin’ in Twin Forks by midnight.” His blind eyes stayed fixed on something miles beyond Kenzie. He reached down between his legs and opened the beat up red suitcase. Kenzie watched as Johnny removed a small object wrapped in a handkerchief. “Me, I’m an old man, so maybe you indulges me. I’d like to give ya’ll a little good luck charm, ‘cause I reckon you gonna need one.”
He held out his hand. It was steady as a black, iron bar. Kenzie’s hand, however, trembled. He took the gift and opened it. Inside the cloth was some kind of an antique toy; a dried gourd that was attached to a small stick by a faded leather thong. It made a small, hissing sound when Kenzie shook it.
“A rattle?”
Johnny Divine seemed pleased by the sound. He grinned broadly, but there was something feral in that smile. “Mebbe yes, mebbe no,” he said. “This here is a genuine artifact from that lost tribe, t
he Sand People. Now, you listen good.” His southern accent melted away, but for some reason Kenzie barely noticed. “Like all other things in this world, you must look at this toy two different ways whenever you shake it, Mr. Kenzie. You may have forgotten one simple truth. Out here, a rattle can mean a couple of very different things. It can be harmless on a toy…or dangerous as all get out when it’s on the tail of an angry snake.”
“I can’t accept this,” Kenzie said. “If it’s real, it’s probably worth a lot of money.”
Johnny Divine waved him away and used the cane to struggle to his feet. Not wishing to be rude, Kenzie reluctantly put the rattle in his pants pocket. For the first time, he noticed an ornate wolf’s head, carved from what appeared to be sterling silver, right at the top of the old man’s cane. He also noted that Johnny wore a pair of ancient-looking moccasins on his dirty, bare feet. What a character.
Johnny Divine walked slowly towards the doorway to the battered diner. He paused with his back to Kenzie. “I think it was Thomas Huxley who wrote that ‘If a little knowledge is dangerous, where is the man who has so much as to be out of danger?’ It may behoove you to learn why you do what you do, sir.”
Kenzie rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t understand.”
“If’n you don’t, you don’t,” Divine said. His accent flowed back, thick as honey. He spoke one final time: “Ya’ll keep a careful watch on that pretty little wife you got. Your own self, too. ‘Bye now.”
Wife? Kenzie tried to find words to respond, but couldn’t. He just shook his head in amazement. The old bastard isn’t even blind. He saw Laura in the car. The black man vanished into the shadows of the empty building. Johnny Divine my ass, Kenzie thought. He walked back to his car and opened the driver’s door. Laura was awake and yawning.
Behold the Child Page 5
